Only an hour each way this time, a Sunday errand that didn't really need doing. I put on a single episode of a podcast meaning to half-listen, and instead I sat in the car on the drive outside the house for ten minutes after I'd arrived, because the thing wasn't finished and neither was I.
It was an interview with someone talking about leaving a job they'd loved, and the slow realisation that the thing they were good at had quietly stopped being the thing the job needed. No drama, no villain, just a person noticing that the ground had moved under them and deciding to move with it rather than dig in. I have been circling a similar feeling for months and not naming it.
A short drive is too brief for the deep thinking I get on the long ones. But it's exactly long enough for one good idea to land and stick. This one did. I still don't know what I'm going to do about it. I do know I'm going to stop pretending the question isn't there. Then I went inside and made the tea I'd been promising myself, and got on with the Sunday.